we're rebuilt and remade
by PREttYPAIN
Summary: octavia and lincoln established future fic. they've all had to start again and create their new homes.


So I have a new ship. Yay!

I haven't seen too many fics of this couple yet. Will try another, better one after this quick little drabble. Might be more, steamy? *wink wink* We shall see.

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_**(we're rebuilt and remade)**_

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She smiles as she trudges through the muddy woods, lingering on certain leaves and watching the spiders weave their webs. After the long summer rains there is a calmness that she basks in; worships to the sky and back, for she is grateful that these days are not filled with flying spears and spilt blood. How long ago it seems, she thinks as she examines a newly bloomed flower, that these woods were filled with fighting. The people of these lands had been cruel and savage, but then so had her own. It was a different time, she muses sadly. There had been such pain in those days that she can vividly recall the fear and panic. But now there are flowers and hope. There are no wars or Mountain Men. Yes, she relishes the air after the rain. It is fresh and new.

The flower in her hand is a vivid pink and she smiles widely when she spies a few more. They will make a good dye for Aurora's new dress. And so she plucks them gently, tucking them into the bag slung around her middle, the strap slightly askew from the small mound that is her belly. With Aurora's second birthday soon approaching and Bellamy insisting that a party be held for the first Ark baby born on the ground, there were only a few days left to finish the small white dress and the pink of the flowers was such a pretty choice.

So she makes her way to the small structure on the outskirts of the village, a modest home with flowers teeming in the front garden and a large sturdy fence for elemental protection. It has been her place of comfort for the last few years, when all the fighting had ceased and the humans of the earth had begun to rebuild, albeit somewhat tentatively. Octavia couldn't blame them, although she had been the most optimistic of them all. Having never had a true home to feel safe, she understood what they were risking. There was a society once and the people screwed it up. They had all been hesitant to start again because they knew it could all be for nothing and they couldn't watch as their new world burned to the ground once more. But like all things, Octavia insisted, this _had _to be tried. They could build up a society like the old one or even make it better than the previous generations. With the Ark inhabitants and the other tribes surrounding them, they did.

Houses and small villages.

Families.

"Mama!" The girlish cry brought a grin to Octavia's face and she opened the gate, throwing her arms around the small girl that tumbled into her.

There had never been a serious thought in Octavia Blake's head two years ago about being a mother. She had been more concerned with surviving and brokering peace between her people and the Grounders. Even before arriving on Earth she had given up hope of any future of that kind. She had been a hidden ghost. A girl who was not meant to live and never could. But then she met Lincoln, a man with a warrior's hands and a mystic's soul. It wasn't love at first sight, not even close. And she didn't immediately think _hey I want this guy's babies_ after knowing him for a few months. They survived together, struggled together. Hell, he taught her how to fight and kill if she should ever need to. It was during those days of hardships that she realized how deep their bond went. It flowed into her veins, through the trees he hid in, the herbs she learned to collect, the songs his people sung and the dreams her people brought. It came about so naturally, she thought, that when Lincoln asked her to stay with him forever, she knew her answer within a heartbeat. _Hell yes, _she had whispered.

And Aurora, with her sweet dark eyes and even darker hair, had come not long after.

"Mama." The little girl spoke again, her plump hands reaching out to squish her mother's cheeks.

Octavia scooped the girl into her arms, rising on her feet from her crouched position. "Mama has something pretty for you. It's for your dress, okay?"

The little girl giggled, waving her arms about and pointing to the front of the house excitedly. "Daddy is funny! Daddy is funny."

It was then that Octavia noticed her husband leaning in the front doorway, a smirk on his face and flour on his shirt. Any other day and finding precious flour smeared on his clothes and possibly the tables inside as well would have made her glare threateningly at him. It was such a luxury resource to come by, though they had gotten better with their food development that Octavia usually saved it for special occasions. But seeing her daughter's delighted expression matched with Lincoln's barely contained laughter proved too much of a distraction.

"Your daddy is definitely a clown, sweetie." Octavia mumbled, placing a kiss on his lips as she passed.

"I was making a cake." Lincoln explained as they came upon the small kitchen, pots and pans lying in disarray and spoons scattered about. It wasn't a complete battlefield but it looks as if at least three Grounders had a fist fight in there. "For Aurora's birthday."

Octavia, still holding the toddler in her arms, surveyed the room. "It looks like you made a bomb."

Scratching the back of his head, Lincoln remained quiet until Aurora raised her arms towards him, begging to be held. He obliged with a small smile, taking her gently. The little girl wrapped her arms around his neck, tracing the patterns of his tattoos.

"I have never had use of this before," he began, motioning with his chin towards the mess. "Making a cake and birthday parties were not exactly a daily occurrence for my people. But I thought I should help."

"It wasn't for me either," Octavia said slowly, watching the father of her children with an understanding smile. Her hands strayed to the small bump that was her belly and wished for a boy that could learn the true meaning of love from his father. A boy that would be cared for and grow with a mother's touch. He would not be trained to kill, or carry battle scars. "But I learned when I had nothing else to do, so next time leave the cake baking to me."

Lincoln grinned and nodded in agreement, watching her small hands rub her middle. Their eyes met and Octavia almost squealed at the heat she saw there. With Aurora's small head lolling sleepily on her father's shoulders and the intensity of the stare, Octavia knew she'd never get the mess cleaned that night. She quickly looked away, biting her lip and marching through the chaotic kitchen. Behind her, she could practically feel Lincoln's groan of frustration. A mischievous smile graced her lips and she turned back to see her husband placing Aurora's sleeping body on the cushioned floor, where she would take her afternoon nap for the day.

Perhaps she didn't have to get everything cleaned up right away…

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End file.
